


crying and kissing

by whispersbabe (orphan_account)



Category: Panic At The Disco, Ryan Ross - Fandom, Ryden - Fandom, brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Smut Mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/whispersbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Ryan cried around Brendon, except it's 3 because this is incomplete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crying and kissing

**Author's Note:**

> this is incomplete. I may return to it at some point but it got tiring to write. 
> 
> Special mentions to Alina (@ryanandzberg on Twitter) and the rest of the throam book club, cos this fic is sorta for them. the 'ryans semen' line is for you. love ya.

They were signed. The last contract had been signed with four signatures on the dotted line, they were to start recording their debut album in a few months time and Pete, Pete Wentz was excited to hear it. 

Panic At The Disco, meet Fueled By Ramen. 

None of the four could believe it, coming together in a tight embrace as soon as Pete left. An unspoken sentence hangs around them, bringing disbelieving laughter. We did   
it 

Once they manage to gain composure and let go of eachother, Brendon does the typical thing and sets off bouncing on the sofa in their practice space chanting variations of “FUCK YES!” and “WE GOT SIGNED!”, Brent and Spencer hurry out of the room to call their parents and Ryan sits down on the opposite end of the sofa that Brendon is abusing and sets his head in his hands with a laughing sigh. 

Brendon tentatively ceases his bouncing to sit beside Ryan, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“Ryan, dude, whats up?”

He looks up sheepishly, his eyes wet and a contradictory grin plastered on his face.

He’s crying, but the expected sobs are replaced with bursts of laughter. Tears made of pure happiness spill down his cheeks, a relief and joy clear on his face that makes his multi-coloured eyes shine and makes Brendons heart jump. It’s a cry of "thank god" and a cry of "holy shit fuckfuck is this real this is amazing,” and Brendons never seen him cry before but he’s relieved that he’s seeing tears of happiness and not something else.   
He never really knows what to do when people cry. 

He tells himself that it’s simple shock and definitely not the way Ryan looks so small and overwhelmed and cute that pushes him to take Ryan in his arms and press his head to his shoulder, letting Ryan’s emotions spill onto grey hoodie as he rubs the other boys back comfortingly. 

“We’ve done it. We’ve really, actually done it.” Ryan exclaims, muffled by the fabric.  
Brendon finds himself too caught up in Ryan’s scent- aftershave and soap and sweat- to reply, simply nuzzling his head further into Ryans neck until his lips are just millimetres away from the exposed skin of his throat. 

Ryan pulls back from Brendon’s arms with a jerk, wiping his teary eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie and looking embarrassed. He’s blushing slightly, but Brendon’s sure it’s from public crying rather than the way they both stilled when Brendon’s lips were a breath away from Ryan’s neck. It’s not like he would’ve kissed him, anyway. What’s there to be awkward about?

-

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is Audrey, pressed snugly against him and smiling in her sleep. The second is that his mouth could be compared to a desert it’s so dry. His lips feel cut and raw, so he kills his romantic urges and refrains from placing a soft kiss to Audrey’s temple as he untangles from her small form to get a glass of water. It took a while to get used to waking up and walking on a moving bus but eventually they all got used to it, so much so that on longer drives when they finally stop off at the venue it takes a moment to get used to solid, unmoving ground.

Brendon will miss being on tour. 

He leaves the bunk area and almost doesn’t see the thin figure folded up on the couch, shadows falling on his face to almost make him look ill. His eyes are red and puffy and maybe wet. 

Brendon stops in his tracks, “Ryan? You alright, dude?” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock perched precariously on the counter. It’s 5:40am. 

Ryan looks up and forces a smile, sniffling.

“Yeah man, I’m fine. Couldn’t sleep, came out here to think.” he tries to sound casual but a slight crack in his voice gives him away, and suddenly there’s a single tear making its way down his cheek, mingling with eyeliner that hasn’t been removed correctly.

Brendon pauses, unsure of what to do, and quickly crosses the room to fill a plastic cup with water and hand it to Ryan. He’s not sure how water will help with what is now a bout of sobbing but he’s unsure of what else to do. He can’t remember ever seeing Ryan like this; he’s usually calm and composed and intelligent, keeping everything bottled up. 

They sit awkwardly while Ryan tries to calm down and breaks the silence, 

“I’m sorry. You –You shouldn’t have to see me like t-this. It’s just– It’s everything. My dad. This tour. This band. You. Everyone. Me, even. I don’t know anymore, Bren. I don’t fucking know.” he rants, shoulders slumping forward. Brendon doesn’t know what to say. What does he mean “You”? What has Brendon done?   
He rubs Ryan’s back almost instinctively, like his mother used to do for him. Ryan leans his head carefully on Brendons shoulder and seems to let go completely, no longer holding back his tears. 

He’s crying, and it’s broken. His sobs are lost, and his eyes which normally shine as though they’re seeing wonders nobody else can see are sad and confused. His entire body shakes and the day-old makeup mixing with salt tears and staining his face makes him look even more defeated. Brendon’s never seen something so heartbreaking. 

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. It’s fine. Shh,” he soothes when Ryan begins to pull back in embarrassment. He pulls the older boy back against him, fitting his brown-haired head under his chin, and holds him as he lets out the emotion and fear and confusion and anguish he’s held inside. He’s soaking Brendon’s t-shirt but it’s an old one anyway, something he’s had since before this band. 

At some point it stops being Brendon holding Ryan as he cries for comfort and becomes them holding onto each-other because it’s nice and warm, although neither mention it. Ryan stopped crying around 6am and for ten long minutes they simply sat in silence, serenity washing over them as they enjoyed their warmth and scents. 

Then Brendon heard the bathroom door bang, and jumped with a start. Ryan sat up, alarmed, and looked around. Had somebody seen them? It’s not like they were doing anything, but it could look strange to somebody else if they witnessed the peaceful bubble the two had conjured around them. 

Nobody emerged from the bathroom after a minute, so the pair lsat back into the couch and pressed close, using the cold of the bus as an excuse. 

“So, what was all that about?” Brendon nudged Ryan’s shoulder, picking absently at a thread in the sofa. 

Ryan tensed slightly against him, shaking his head. “Nothing. I mean- it wasn’t nothing. It’s just nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. It’s just- do you ever get sick of everything?” he rambles, worrying at his lower lip. 

Brendon considers the question and nods slowly as he answers, “Yeah. Sure. Like sometimes I kind of want to lie in bed all day and not get up again. Life is tiring.” 

Ryan nods but doesnt seem satisfied with the answer. 

“No, like-. I can’t explain it. I guess sometimes it feels like...everything is going on around me but I’m stuck. Or it’s just going past me. It feels like I can’t keep up with what’s happening anymore – with my own thoughts and my own life and everything. It makes me dizzy and I want to fucking stop. I want the world to stop, Bren. I need it to. I don’t think I can keep going like this. I’m exhausted.” He has his hands in his hair, pushing it up like he’s just rubbed a balloon in it, and he looks tiny and vulnerable and on the verge of tears again. He sounds lost. 

Brendon has no idea what to say to that, so he just puts his head against Ryan’s, like maybe he’ll understand him better with the contact. He knows Ryan see’s the world differently from others. He see’s everything from a deeper, more thoughtful perspective than anybody else could even begin to comprehend. 

Ryan speaks again, small and quiet, “You know that song, the one by the Killers?” he asks. Brendon doesn’t know which Killers song is in question, but nods regardless. 

“I feel like that one line,” Ryan continues, “‘I’m so much older than I can take’”

Brendon says nothing again, just sighs and hopes Ryan takes it as understanding. Ryan’s mind is so fascinating yet so worryingly troubled. He knows somehow that what Ryan’s telling him is simply a short, simplified version of what’s going on in his head. He’s not sure he wants to know the unedited version. 

Another silence falls between them, tired but not awkward. Ryan’s hand at some point finds Brendon’s and neither of them are talking about it. They don’t talk about their inappropriate gay act on stage (or how sometimes one of them has to excuse themselves after the show, looking flustered) and they won’t talk about this. There’s a steadily growing list of things Ryan and Brendon don’t talk about. Holding hands, holding eachother, prolonged gazes, stage-acts. Truthfully, they both find an obscene comfort in one-another. It’s just one of those things where the others presence feels...easy. They’re just lonely on tour, is all. 

Yeah. Just lon-

Brendons thought is cut short by the brief appearance of a flash of pink hair, rushing from the bathroom to the bunk-area and seemingly having just been watching them. 

He’s not lonely. He has a girlfriend. She’s on tour, in his bed, and he forgot. Ryan did too, briefly. He forgot because he was here with Ryan, who’s clutching his hand and pressed against him and looking ridiculously adorable as he falls asleep. 

He was comforting and finding comfort in Ryan, and he finds he’d rather be here than with Audrey. 

As Ryan’s breaths even out beside Brendon and Audrey sleeps on her own, Brendon wonders if he doesn’t have conflicting thoughts of his own to try and make sense of.

-  
The sun is setting outside and Ryan Ross is standing in his living room, hair tousled from Brendon’s hands, wearing a Ramones t-shirt and boxers. Both might’ve been Brendons but neither of them really care. 

The only thing Brendon can care about at that moment is how Ryan still looks like sex personified and he’s right there but had also told him as he was pulling on clothes that twice was enough for one evening, which Brendon decided was so unfair it was okay to practically beg for a blowjob. He got what he wanted, too. 

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he misses Ryan’s question entirely and receives a slap on the arm as a result. 

“Earth to Brendon?” Ryan demands, laughing. 

“What? Oh. Sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?” 

“I asked you what movie you wanted to watch.” Ryan responds, walking to the DVD stand in the corner and glancing through. 

“Something cheesy. Nothing...thinky. I’m to tired to think.” Brendon yawns, stretching cat-like on his sofa and lying down. 

Ryan rolls his eyes and pulls out three DVD’s, eyeing them with distaste. “Your movie collection is abysmal. Your choices for the least-shit cheesiness are The Notebook, Love Actually and Bambi.” 

He considers for a moment before choosing. “Notebook. Love Actually is too festive and Bambi is scratched, sadly. I haven’t actually seen the Notebook either.” he decides

Ryan huffs and takes the DVD out of it box, checking for marks and cleaning it on his shirt. “What’s worse is I think this is my copy of the Notebook,” he frowns as he slides the DVD into the player.

Brendon holds out his arms, beckoning Ryan to come cuddle him. He takes the DVD remote from the floor and walks to Brendon, sinking into his arms and pressing play. 

Technically, this was a date. Or as close to a date as they could get. They aren't a couple, far from, but they’re more than just friends with benefits and lately it’s felt like more than just a casual fling. Suddenly there’s guilt and little fleeting moments and touches that suggest something more. The way Brendon’s pulse picks up whenever Ryan’s in the room doesn't help either. 

The way his heart flutters when Ryan settles himself in Brendon’s arms, letting Brendon spoon him and watch the screen from over his shoulder, really does not help with the idea that this is casual and without real feelings.

“So Keltie told me she woke up in the night once and you were watching this and crying?” Brendon teases, nudging Ryan playfully.

Ryan tenses slightly at Keltie’s name but laughs, 

“Shut up and watch it, then you’ll learn not to judge me.” 

Brendon’s first observation is that Ryan Gosling is hot. Like, woah hot. For the second time in an hour he was drooling over a guy called Ryan. 

Quite honestly, Brendon finds the film itself to be quite dull and distangles himself from Ryan about half way through for popcorn and coffee, much to Ryan’s discontent. His stomach is protesting against his choice of diet today, which had consisted of a single chocolate bar (and Ryan’s semen, technically), so he’s happy to ignore Ryan’s moans of, “Nooooo, don’t leave.” and go in search of snacks.

In the kitchen, he finds that he actually has no popcorn. He’s craving it like a pregnant woman however and it isn’t a difficult decision for him to run to the shop around the corner and buy some, giving Ryan a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. 

He could almost believe that was their happy, domestic life. 

Brendon knows their situation. He knows it all too well. Brendon is the bit on the side that’s also something more. He tries not to resent Keltie, but if he doesn’t hate her he pities her because it’s painfully clear how devoted she is to Ryan. If she ever found out he’s far from faithful it would shatter her heart completely. 

Brendon might choose to comfort her. 

When Brendon returns with a bag of microwave popcorn in hand, he finds Ryan curled up into himself on the couch where Brendon left him. 

He’s sobbing his heart out. 

Panic runs through Brendon instantly because, well, Ryan doesn’t cry. He just doesn’t, unless he’s entirely overwhelmed. Brendon has seem him cry twice, when they got signed and - He doesn’t like to think about the last time. They don’t talk about it, but that night when they’d woken up in eachothers arms at around 7am something had changed between them. It was that something that got them where they were now, sneaking around and maybe loving one another, maybe just passing the time.

Ryan crying usually means trouble. 

“Ryan? Hey, what's up?” Brendon soothes, pushing his thoughts aside and kneeling tentatively before his friend.   
Ryan just sniffles and wipes his eyes, looking embarrassed. 

That’s when Brendon notices that in his absence the film had come to its presumably quite upsetting end. He can’t contain the laughter that bubbles inside him.

“Stop fucking laughing, you cunt. It’s not funny,” Ryan sniffs, swatting the other boy’s arm harder than necessary. 

His eyes are red but glistening with a smile and he’s clearly holding back a laugh of his own, so Brendon does what comes naturally and pins him to the couch in a violent attack of tickling. Force the laugh out of him. 

“B-bren-,” Ryan wheezes, giggling breathlessly, “stop, seriously, p-lease I can’t-” 

Brendon stops his attack at Ryan’s request, but doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath as he leans in for a kiss, capturing Ryan’s lips softly and melting. Hands come up to rest on Brendon’s back, pressing softly, and Brendon fits himself more comfortably on top of Ryan’s slender body and accidentally biting down slightly on Ryan’s lip, causing a sharp gasp to escape him.

Brendon can’t help but think that maybe they should watch the Notebook more often.


End file.
